Dynamic Duos
by cmartlover
Summary: Sherlock sends John off to investigate a strange disappearance, while he attends to more "urgent" matters. Elsewhere, the TARDIS materializes in London, and the Doctor mysteriously vanishes. Amy is left searching and happens to encounter another doctor...
1. Did You Call For a Doctor?

**Author's Note: So, I was wondering how I could do a crossover between Doctor Who and Sherlock, and the idea of this story emerged. By the way, the characters noted are John and Amy, but the Doctor and Sherlock are definitely involved.** **For the Doctor and Amy, this takes place slightly before the Pandorica Opens, and for John and Sherlock, it takes place sometime in the Series 2 time frame, but before the finale. I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are greatly appreciated:)**

***Note*- this fic has been revised since its original publishing, for your convenience. **

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><p>The former soldier watched intently as the self- proclaimed sociopath rested himself nonchalantly upon the sofa.<p>

That man's soulless eyes remained fixated upon the beige wall, and his hands were folded carefully over his chest. Despite the fact that this man had been fixed in that position for quite a while, his body remained still, the only exception being the occasional dilation of his pupils and the fluttering of his eyelids.

There was something terribly unsettling about how those icy blue irises were only a mere echo of the internal workings of the detective.

Whoever had decided that the eyes were the gateway to the soul had obviously been gravely mistaken because all John Watson seemed capable of concluding about Sherlock's cold stare was that any attempt to decipher it would be futile.

For this reason, the man with the sandy hair finally felt compelled to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind for hours on end.

Raising his scruffy eyebrows, the veteran mustered the courage to part his lips at last.

"Ah, Sherlock…what exactly are you doing?" John muttered quickly, his voice tinged with confusion.

"Thinking," came the low, monotone response from the man who was often mistakenly called a psychopath.

The slightly agitated soldier nearly opened his mouth in further question, when, suddenly, both men jerked at the sound of the door flinging wide open.

"Oh, I thought you two might be out and about by now. It's a shame, really, I was rather hoping to tidy up a bit…" The kindhearted, elderly woman mumbled, her wobbling arms clasping two unwieldy bags of groceries.

"Here, Mrs. Hudson, let me help you with that," the only gentleman in the room suggested, before taking her tiresome burdens upon himself.

After the landlady whispered a word of thanks, her eyes moved toward the man who continued to lie on the couch, looking so still, almost as if he had been paralyzed.

"My, my, Sherlock…what are you still doing in your night clothes? It's nearly half past noon…Oh, and you do look awfully pale deary…I think I might just go and fix you a cup of tea if you don't mind…" Mrs. Hudson finally decided, before inching her way toward the kitchen, leaving no time for either man to protest.

Rummaging through the refrigerator, the older lady suddenly jumped in fright, her boisterous yelp filling the room.

"Oh, dear, Sherlock! Why on earth have you got a bloody head in the fridge?" The woman's quivering voice caused John to stiffen, though the anti-social detective remained completely unfazed.

"Sherlock, we solved that case about three weeks ago, don't you think you should have disposed of that blasted thing by now?" The doctor belted out, in a wary attempt to elicit a response from his best friend.

"Two weeks, six days, seven hours, twenty three minutes, four seconds and counting to be precise, and the explanation is simple, really, John, I've been quite busy, lately, as I'm sure you're well aware…But, anyway, onto more important matters…Mrs. Hudson, has anything interesting happened today…a psychotic murder spree, perhaps?" Sherlock finally spoke, a hopeful smirk crinkling across his face.

"Well, dear, I haven't really heard anything…except for a little something in the papers…some sort of mysterious disappearance, but not to worry, the police say it's nothing…" Mrs. Hudson spoke truthfully.

Sherlock snickered.

Focusing his eyes upon John, Sherlock began to grin mischievously, the sort of thing he only did when he was conniving some sort of scheme.

"Now, John, you must be incredibly bored, going by the subtle lines of irritation across your face, the soft, irregular tapping of your foot, and of course, the slightly bluish tint to your skin that gives it all away. But, not to worry, my friend, because I'm sending you out to do some investigating…find out everything you can on these disappearances…see if they're even worth my time…Meanwhile, I'll remain here, busying myself with matters of far greater importance…Now, off you go, John, and I expect to see you in precisely two hours time…have you got that?"

The ravings of the wavy haired man were received with a nod of defeat.

As the older man cautiously ventured towards the door, he couldn't help but smile, despite his efforts to remain stoic.

Though Sherlock's rude antics and obsessive behavior should have infuriated him, John Watson found it difficult to deny that he was once again dumbfounded and awed at Sherlock's cleverness.

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><p>"So, Doctor, where are we going today? Somewhere excitin', I hope…" A Scottish cadence echoed through the walls of the elaborate control room, as the red head made her way towards the man in the bow tie.<p>

Fumbling his fingers overtop various levers of the TARDIS console, the raggedy man appeared reluctant to answer.

Within seconds, a familiar whooshing sound reverberated through the corridors of the vast time machine.

Scuttling towards the front door, the Doctor hastily opened it, a childish grin gracing his cheeks.

"Amelia Pond, I give you London, the 25th of October, 2011."

At this exclamation, the red head began to furrow her brow.

"Seriously? That's only like less than a year in my future. I thought for sure we would have been going to a planet or somethin'…" Amy Pond spoke her mind, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"Oh, _come on_, Pond, you're the one who said you wanted to go to the shops," the man rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but I wasn't bein' serious! Really, Doctor why are we here? I'm your best friend, you can tell me, just this once…and while we're still on the subject, why have you been so nice to me, lately? I mean, ya took me to see Vincent Van Gogh last week, Space Florida yesterday—what's this all about?" The ginger inquired, as she slowly followed the Doctor out of the inconspicuous blue box.

"Oh, will you look at that, Pond! What a nice little shop…I bet they've got Jammie Dodgers!" His ecstatic tone may have been convincing to anyone else, but the red head could tell from the flicker of sadness in his eyes that he was secretly hurt.

Glancing down at the misconstrued sidewalk, Amy felt her heart fill with remorse.

"Actually, Doctor, forget what I said…I was just a wee bit surprised, that's all…I really do appreciate your kindness…" The girl with the red hair came very close to muttering a genuine apology.

It was not until then that she realized that the quirky man dressed in a bow tie and tweed jacket was nowhere in sight.

Her hazel eyes veered frantically towards the tiny store across the bustling street.

_Nothing. Where could he have gone? There must be something he hasn't told me, but what?_ The shivering Scottish girl wondered, a sea of ominous doubts enveloping her mind.

Against her better judgment, Amy Pond allowed the sound of her trembling voice to permeate the thickening chaos.

"Doctor! Doctor, where are ya? Doctor?"

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><p>Standing inconspicuously amidst a crowd of rowdy Londoners, John Watson scanned the front page of the newspaper that he had recently purchased.<p>

The headline read:

"_38-Year Old Man Mysteriously Vanishes; Police Suspect Suicide"_

The former soldier sighed; concluding that in the thirty-plus minutes since he had left the flat, he honestly had not obtained any significant information regarding the supposed disappearances.

Truth be told, John was beginning to wonder whether Sherlock actually had so much as a slight interest in such matters. When one considered the detective's typically erratic behavior, it seemed far more likely that he had ulterior motives for enlisting the old army doctor to complete such an unfruitful task.

The unspoken doubts of the man were suddenly drowned out by a loud buzzing sound.

Fingering through his jacket pocket, John relinquished his vibrating phone.

After quickly pressing a few buttons, the sandy haired man unveiled a slightly alarming text.

"_John, come quickly_

_if convenient._

_-SH"_

Within moments of processing the message, John became distracted by a fearful voice that was resounding from across the road.

"Doctor?" the young ginger haired girl cried, her voice quivering with uncertainty.

Because her pale body was shaking and her hazel eyes were glistening with tears, John found himself trotting over to her.

Whatever trouble Sherlock had wandered his way into would have to wait.

"Excuse me, miss, but, did you call for a doctor?" The former physician spoke delicately to the vulnerable red head.

"Um…kind of…I'm lookin' for a man who calls himself, "the Doctor," she whispered shakily.

"What sort of man…boyfriend…husband?"

His question caused the girl's cheeks to flush a deep pink.

"No, nothin' like that…he's just a friend…my best friend…but he seems to have wandered off…possibly disappeared…"

The final word of that sentence swam in John's mind, until he suddenly made the connection.

"In that case, I think I may yet be of use to you. See, I have this mate, who's a detective…of sorts…he's extremely clever…and in desperate need of something to occupy himself with…what'd ya say I take you to him? Our flat's just a few blocks down, and I'm heading back anyway."

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><p>Though the red head would ordinarily have avoided a stranger, something about the man's disposition made him appear trustworthy.<p>

His hazel eyes were kind and gentle, and she couldn't help but feel like he reminded her of someone. Unfortunately, a void in her mind prevented her from pinpointing the exact person she was thinking of.

Besides, she was desperate to find the Doctor, and thus was willing to take a few potential risks, in order to do so.

Anyway, he hadn't seemed to take any notice of the blue box nestled in the alleyway, so there was no danger in going with him.

"Okay, let's go find this detective…"

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><p>"I'm John Watson, by the way. What's your name?" The veteran stated confidently.<p>

"I'm Amy. Amy Pond." The ginger responded, a tiny smile reanimating her face.

"So, you're Scottish, then? What brings you to London? Are you on holiday?" He asked as they veered nearer to their destination.

"Yep. Definitely Scottish. And I suppose you could kind of say I'm on holiday…the Doctor took me here to go shopping," the girl managed to say, though it seemed from her tone of voice that she was concealing some important details.

"This bloke, the Doctor, describe him for me. That way, we've got a better chance of finding him."

_Or finding his corpse, _John couldn't seem to escape the negative possibilities.

"Well, I suppose he'd be rather easy to spot, because he's not exactly what you'd call…um…normal…he's a bit old fashioned…looks young…late twenties…wears a dorky tweed jacket and bow tie…don't ask…Let's just say he's somewhat socially inept, but extremely clever, all the same…he has an odd capacity to find his way into dangerous situations…though he always seems to have a plan, like he's one step ahead of everyone…I can barely keep up with him…"

As Amy Pond vividly described her best friend, John supposed the man sounded strangely familiar.

_He's quirky, clever, brilliant, and obviously a bit mad…I mean, what sort of bloke calls himself, "The Doctor"…Well, if he is anything like Sherlock, then I feel very sorry for her…not that Sherlock's that bad anyway…_

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><p>The sandy haired man was greatly relieved to see the "221B Baker Street" address emerge into view.<p>

"Okay, Amy, this is it. Now follow me very quiet-like, because there's no telling how he might react. He doesn't always take very kindly to newcomers."

This soft-spoken remark invoked a small fear in the young woman, though she was still eager to heed John's instructions.

As the former army doctor carefully wandered up the dark steps and shifted the door open, he began calling for his flat-mate.

"Sherlock! I'm back, and we have a visitor who may interest you. Sherlock, can you hear me? Sher—" John stopped suddenly, his voice wavering.

"What, what is it?" the red head began to sound extremely nervous.

But the sandy haired man remained unresponsive, his body paralyzed by the tantalizing sight before him.

The flat was a complete wreck—books were strewn across the floor, some utterly ruined, their disheveled pages resting in random spots.

However, what ultimately triggered the rapid dilation of John's black pupils was the uncanny array of crimson fluid smeared upon the beige wall, to form two simple, yet terrifying words.

"_You're Next."_

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><p><strong>Note: Don<strong>'**t worry more is coming soon, if I get enough positive feedback. I hope you enjoyed it. In the meantime, you might be interested in checking out my other stories, which are posted on my profile page. Thanks for reading. Reviews would be lovely:)**

**Have a wonderful day!**


	2. Dumbfounded

**Author's Note: So, here's the 2nd chapter! Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. Also, thank God I got this chapter up because my Document Manager wasn't working yesterday. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated:)**

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><p>Though the former army doctor was normally well familiarized with gory situations, given his previous occupation, the tantalizing sight of what was potentially the blood of his best friend, unnerved John completely.<p>

He supposed he must have been in shock because he felt as if his body was locked in that position, for the vague idea of shifting his limbs in any direction was disconcerting.

Despite being fully aware that his thoughts and actions were irrational, the sandy haired man found himself visualizing the horrid image of a certain detective jolting directly towards the creamy colored wall, as the man's blood lined fingers cascaded downward in a thoughtful motion, until his broken body finally collapsed and succumbed to the ominous allure of darkness.

This, of course, was a worst case scenario, but, nevertheless, the possibility rested heavily upon the soldier's mind.

Trying to steady his husky breathing and accelerated pulse, John pondered what a particular consulting detective would have done had he been entangled in such a dumbfounding predicament.

_Come on, what would Sherlock do? Well, I suppose, for starters, he would scan the room in the way he always does; he certainly wouldn't be standing around like a lame duck mourning over his idiotic flat mate…no, he'd go off on some clever notion and know precisely where to go from there…_

Just imaging his best friend's typical behavior served only as another scathing blow to John's already deteriorating physique.

The terror that slowly corroded his heart was not in actuality caused by the obvious; rather, what truly remained shrouded beneath the surface were his own doubts.

_But I'm not Sherlock…I never will be…I'm just too ordinary…an idiot…if I hadn't left, none of this would have ever happened._

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><p>It appeared that in the midst of this traumatic event, the trembling John Watson had neglected the fact that his ginger haired visitor was still standing right behind him.<p>

In the mere minutes that had elapsed since she had entered the room, Amy Pond had been scanning the scarlet message.

_What does it mean? Is it a warning or a threat? I suppose it can't be good whatever it is…one thing's for sure; we can't just stand round here…_The inquisitive girl decided, while struggling against the internal fear of uncertainty.

Traveling with the Doctor for so long had given her an unexpected confidence, which now compelled her to take action.

Finally submitting to her impulses, Amy Pond cautiously wandered her way closer to the star-struck John.

Before she tried to get him to move, she ever so carefully observed his facial expressions. In a way, the former army doctor's face was an alarming sight to behold, as it was convulsed with a sickening mixture of rage, fear, sadness and confusion.

Fortunately, the red head had witnessed these symptoms before in a certain man in a bow tie, so she was not clueless as to how to handle the situation from there. In fact, she was extremely sympathetic towards him.

Lightly tapping John's shoulder, Amy began to speak melodically.

"John, come on, everythin's goin' to be just fine. I'll even help ya find your friend if you like…but ya can't just stand here…ya know ya can't…believe me, I know how ya feel, but if ya allow yourself to become too emotional, it will only make matters worse…I could tell ya that just from knowin' the Doctor…but, one thing he would never do is give up…"

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><p>The soothing tone of the young ginger caused the broken man to suddenly lurch back into the harsh confines of reality.<p>

It was as if something in his mind had welded together at precisely the right moment, allowing him to extricate himself from his turmoil.

Instinctively, John shifted in her direction, now intent on making progress.

"Right…um…okay, then…we better get a move on…Amy, you can search through the room…look for any sort of thing that might give us a lead…and I'll examine this wall…and try to deduce the possibilities surrounding these words…remember to work as quickly as possible because there's no way of telling how much time we've got left…"

Even as he relayed these words, John felt the familiar thrill of action seep into his bones, willing him to perform a rather gut wrenching action.

Fingering the crimson letters, John wondered whether the fluid smeared across the wall was truly blood at all. Even if it was, there was no decisive way to tell if it was indeed Sherlock's.

What was bizarre was that there didn't appear to be any other splotches strewn across the room, which was either a sign of forgery or a horrible piece of evidence that whoever had written the message must have done so in extreme desperation.

Nevertheless, it was plausible that whoever had spilled their blood in such a gruesome fashion had purposely intended for him to read it.

_Could Sherlock have been trying to warn me, or is this a threat?_

John was utterly puzzled by the sight and continued to battle the raging doubts that were seeking entrance to his mind.

Besides the constant rustling of crumpled pages, the room was characterized by a deafening silence.

The veteran attempted to continue his thorough examination, but it was becoming very difficult due to the unfruitful results thus far.

_Ugh. I'm getting nowhere with this!_

His thoughts were suddenly vanquished by a slightly unsteady voice that began to echo through the interior of the flat.

"John, I think I may have found somethin', it's probably nothin', but…" The red head had barely finished her sentence, when suddenly John bolted over in her direction.

Her pale, wavering hands clasped a seriously disheveled book that had obviously been torn apart.

The former army doctor didn't recognize its significance until his hazel eyes hastily locked onto an unusual red streak that was spattered across a single word.

"'Air'? What the heck is that supposed to mean?" John was utterly befuddled and frankly disappointed.

"Yeah, I don't know what to make of it, either. But that's not all…there's more in these other books…" Amy clustered a stack of approximately five books in her lap and carefully fumbled the top one open to another page.

Her finger pointed to another crimson stain, which was situated upon a page number.

"'27'…seems a bit random, right? Well, wait 'til ya see what's in these other books. Look, a smear on the 'T' of this title page, and another on an 'S'. 'Air, 27, T, S,' could it be like a code or somethin'? Or maybe your friend or whoever was tryin' to search for somethin' at the last minute…but, it might not mean anythin' at all…"

The voice of the ginger trailed off, and her gaze shifted to the man who was presently deep in concentration.

It was becoming increasingly apparent to John that Sherlock had likely been responsible for this, and he had done it intentionally.

_Unless Moriarty is somehow involved…but I have the strangest feeling that he isn't. If Sherlock was trying to send me a message, his phone must have been confiscated…and he must have had to do so rather quickly and inconspicuously…The blood on the wall was obvious…but this isn't…_

John's brain was bombarded with a swarm of chaos and confusion, which, unfortunately, impaired his deduction skills.

As his forehead bunched up into tiny folds, the veteran realized the true reason for the torment that was stirring form within.

His best friend had trusted him, perhaps to a greater extent than he let on, and John Watson couldn't bear for a second to let him down.

"Okay, Amy, I've dealt with this sort of thing before…and I'm typically rubbish at it…but I'll give it a go, anyway…for Sherlock's sake….Let's see, he must have been doing this rather quickly…so maybe the answer's more obvious than we think. 'Air, 27, T, S,'…all you have to do is unscramble it and you get…27 Air St…of course! That's a London street address near Piccadilly…That must be where Sherlock wants us to go…"

As the truth seemed to have dawned upon them both, a small smile began to crinkle across John Watson's face.

"I have a GPS on my phone…we better get going before whoever it was that ransacked this flat returns…"

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><p>The duo was about to make their way out, until a suspicious creaking sound suddenly radiated from the door down below.<p>

Amy watched as John's pupils began to dilate, and she felt her body begin to shake.

"Amy, you stay here and hide…if I'm not back in five minutes…I suggest you get out of this place as quickly as you can…"

The man's hoarse whisper preceded his motion towards the front of the flat.

Creeping shakily across the tiny hallway, the trembling red head settled for a darkened spot in the corner.

She buried her face in her knees and tried to dispose of her irrational concerns.

Her mind shifted back to the image of her best friend, reminding her that it was for the Doctor's benefit that she was doing this.

What was she so afraid of anyway?

John had decoded the message, so she should have been relieved.

But, now, glancing at the folded scrap of paper that she had cautiously concealed in her skirt pocket, Amy cringed inwardly.

The sandy haired man may have taken note of most of her discovery, but there was one especially vital aspect that she had chosen not to reveal.

It was totally unbelievable and frightfully alarming.

Even in the midst of this revelation, Amy Pond was incredibly certain of one matter—she desperately needed her imaginary friend right now more than ever.

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><p>The heavy eyelids of the peculiar man gradually fluttered open, as he slowly became aware of his foreign surroundings.<p>

As his blue eyes settled, the man in the bow tie realized that he was entrenched in a sea of blackness.

His hearts began pumping blood rapidly to his limbs, and his hands lurched upward, only to be constrained by the sensation of cold metal.

The fact that his head was throbbing madly was a further obstacle that he seemed unable to remove.

Releasing short, husky breaths, the Doctor tried to regain control over his emotions.

_Where am I? What happened? I was with Amy and then…Oh, no…Amy…she's in terrible danger…and it's all my fault._

The raggedy man continued to struggle against the shackles that bound him, until he suddenly witnessed a terrifying sight that had been illuminated by a single sliver of light.

_No…but it can't be…_

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><p><strong>Note: Sorry, there wasn't much dialogue in this chapter. I hope you liked it so far. I probably won't be able to add additional chapters for a couple of weeks because I'm really busy. But, in the meantime, you could always check out some of my other stories(posted on my profile page). Remember that reviews would be greatly appreciated.<strong>

**Have an amazingly brilliant day!**


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